CHAPTER 8

Song Of The Chapter: Bad Blood ~TaylorSwift

Chapter: 8

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PERSPECTIVE: Aizea - The girl that hears after dark

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By the time I have prepared the sandwiches - an action which required an immense amount of courage on my part, this early in the morning - it's just past seven. I am so calm this morning that I am scaring myself.

I wonder if the anticipation is taking a toll on my sanity. It must be. I sigh.

Today is going to be a storm. But, I will survive. Because, I'll have to. I have no way other than surviving. Even more so when I know that he's waiting for me - just the way he has for all these seventeen years. Deep down, I know that it's his acceptance that has not only kept me going for all this time but also instilled this fierce determination to keep going even now.

To whoever the Almighty is, I send a quick prayer that the grand escape plan that I have in mind, finally does work out.

The door to the master bedroom opens. It's Sheroa and Melinda together. Their smiles are bright but in the depths of their eyes, I see a strange gravity. A gravity that makes my heart thrum an oddly uneven rhythm.

Why do I feel like something is seriously wrong? More wrong than I already know.

I say nothing, though. It's Melinda who speaks first. Rather, gasps.

"Oh my, Aizea! You make such amazing sandwiches!", she exclaims, the smile on her face leaking into her voice. Sheroa laughs, but all I can manage is a smile.

Because suddenly my brain is working an overtime, trying to decide if it really is ready to run away from these two people that it has grown up calling parents. These two generous, warm-hearted people who have risked their everything simply for the sake of ensuring my survival. For a moment, I think that maybe they have thought about my life - just as much as I have, just as much as he has.

I immediately halt my thoughts where they are. I can't afford to go all softie now and risk my life so very largely in the absolute final day.

"Just thought that I could be of some use.", I murmur, strongly commanding my lip muscles to curl up into a smile. They do, but of course the smile doesn't reach my eyes. Still, I look up at my parents anyways.

"When do we need to be there by?", I ask the question I am dreading the most at the moment.

"By ten.", it's Rubelle who answers, as he excitedly skips out from his room. "I can't believe it's really happening!", he shrieks excitedly. "I have been waiting for Andre to become the Mayor since... Forever!"

Maybe it's just sad, but I don't feel one bit of the excitement that has Rubelle almost skipping in joy all the way to the table.

"Morning!", he greets me cheerfully as he takes his seat. "Good morning.", I greet him back with as big a fake smile as I could possibly cook up, "Chorsh?", I ask.

Honestly, I am a little concerned that he isn't right here. It makes me have weird, scary thoughts.

"Here!", Chorsh responds as Rubelle opens his mouth to answer, and then shuts it back resignedly. As soon as my eyes meet Chorsh's clear brown ones, I see the concern in their depths. He is worried for me, although a smile - very similar to mine - tries to brighten up his otherwise gloomy-looking face. I scan his pretty, boyish features for any other signs of some emotion that I can't spot on the face of any other member of this family that I have grown up calling my own.

But, everything is all smooth. Chorsh is a perfect pretender - just like me. But his eyes look way-too-eager to say something. As if there's some warning that wants to blurt out to me, against all rules of conduct.

I swiftly look away before anyone spots anything suspicious with me or my behaviour. I can't afford to let everything fall apart in these final hours.

Chorsh silently takes his seat and without as much as another word, bites into his sandwich. I don't say a single more word, either. I want every single person here to retain the image of the sheerly submissive me - there's no bigger upper hand that you can ever have over an enemy than having them thinking of you as too weak. Yes, I remember every single advice that has carelessly slipped out of his lips throughout all these years.

I sit once everyone is seated and I'm sure that I won't need to make any more sandwiches. "This is really really good", Chorsh mutters appreciatively, almost to himself. It's like he doesn't even want to talk with me. Like, he's afraid that if he does, the floodgates will open even before he can make sufficient conscious efforts to keep them closed.

Breakfast is quick with a few appreciative moans from my brothers and some additional comments of admiration from my parents. This the strange feeling doesn't leave its almost permanent spot at the base of my stomach. The anxiety is gnawing at the very apex of my heart and I am almost exploding from the power of it.

I wish he was here. Of course I do.

"This dress is nice.", Melinda compliments as I get up. "Thanks.", I reply, trying hard to sound as sincere as possible. However, I don't miss Chorsh's lingering wary gaze on my back as I make my way back into my room. I don't let my eyes meet his again, though.

I quickly get back into my room and find a cute tiara that matches the dress - with tiny ribbon-roses lining it. I have never seen roses - but I want to. He once promised me that he'll let me see them once I'm back home. And, seeing how nice this rose-designed tiara looks on me - I really want to see them even more.

It was in my dreams that he had first shown me a bunch of ethereal crimson roses, and it was the following night that he had taught me to make tiny ribbon-roses. I had made many and wrapped all those onto this tiara. No one has ever seen this and I can't even imagine how shocked everyone will be when they see this today.

What do I have to hide today? Nothing more. I only wish they would notice it later on - when I was ready to sprint.

I let my hair open, down my back. I'm not going to school - I smile to myself at the small internal joke. I take nothing more. I won't take anything more from this household and this family than I already have and than I absolutely have to.

In Zaayes, corpses are dressed in red during their final rites. The metaphor is frightening. But I stay true to my promise to myself and don't let the fear take a grip over me.

When I step out, my whole family is gathered near the door. Sheroa and Melinda immediately stope their whispered conversation -more like, instructions list - to Chorsh. They don't even look at me, as we all hurriedly set out for the coronation ceremony gathering. Good.

The weather also feels so weird today. The sky is cloudy. It's not so uncommon in Zaayes and I sourly realize that it's me, not the weather. I almost feel like the clouds are too low - trying to collapse me under their invisible weight. But I so won't. I know someone who cares so very deeply for me that it's more than enough to keep me fighting fir a few more hours. I don't even let my doubts rear their ugly heads out of the darkest and deepest corners of my mind.

The coronation is taking place in the Gathering Field only. But, it's far more gorgeously decorated than I have ever had the fortune of seeing it before. There are pansies everywhere, alongside many random flowers that I don't even know the names of. All in all, it's beautiful.

But, fortunately, this beauty doesn't stir all those softie feelings within me anymore. This is improvement.

No one gasps a single Wow. And, I don't see Evelyne. It feels even more strange.

Yet, I simply follow my parents in. The Gathering Field is set up differently. There are no chairs and the crowd stands in two sections on two sides. It's as if it's an aisle made in the middle through which I silently keep following my parents. It's quiet. Too quiet to be an all-good sign.

And just as feared, I peek back a little to see that my brothers aren't there any longer. In front of me, Sheroa and Melinda's heads are bowed in reverence. I notice that they are both dressed in cream-colored garments. Melinda's gown in elegant.

I hear the murmur of calm and sure footsteps on the dry grass break the eerie calmness and then Sheroa and Melinda bow further from their waists.

The next thing I know, each of them has each of my bare wrists in one hand each of theirs, and I am being gently pulled forward.

My eyes automatically snap up to meet the pitch black eyes that I hate so much and I wonder how Andre even has such beautiful eyes, being the son of this man. I don't have to think much harder though, as the man, with his huge build, steps aside, revealing the prettiest face that I have ever seen till date.

I can say it from her soft blue eyes and her delicately beautiful features that she is not one of these people. She is a foreigner. She is very obviously not from Zaayes, at least.

She has plump pink lips, smooth cheeks - that are heavily flushed, a button nose - that is just slightly upturned, adding to her beauty, and a complexion fairer than even my own.

And here I thought that I, by far, had the fairest complexion in Zaayes.

And she's young. Not of the age that would identify her as one of my friends' mother. She is maybe more than a decade younger than the Mayor.

But the spell of the beauty breaks when I re-focus on her eyes. The soft blue colour looks so very innocent, inspite of everything, that I can almost feel my heart melting. Still, the depth of sadness within them moves me. It's a strange kind of look. Like her sadness has been perfectly camouflaged for no one but me to understand. There is this hollowness that tells me that she has lost too many pieces of her shattered heart to count.

And yet, she looks so beautiful in the flowy blue dress that is so very similar in design to mine. Her hair, too, is left open down her back. It is golden blonde - like perfect gold even under the dimmed sun - and quite long; past her hips. There's a small collection of lavenders placed in her hair where it flows past the crook of her neck.

My head is spinning and suddenly I have this powerful urge to vomit up every last content of my stomach. She is so broken and so beautiful that I am too overwhelmed to handle all this.

This is Andre's mother. The Mayor's wife, that no one has ever seen. Now I'm realising how Andre looks so different from all the other guys in Zaayes - so much more good-looking. He's so much like me in that regard - even I look somewhat different from these people.

And to think that this broken show-piece of a woman - not even that, for this is the first time that Zaayes is seeing her achingly beautiful face - is what all these people want to turn me into... I don't even know what to think any longer.

I want to run right now. But I don't do that. I'm not that stupid. This is my life that's on the bait, and I'm not willing to take any chances with regards to something that serious. I'll have to know what all this is all about. I'll have to know who these people actually are, and who this lovely but broken woman really was. Then and only then will I make a run for it.

Never dive head-first into the water till you know every wave and ripple and current in it's depths, like the back of your hand.

I won't let all this go into vain. I won't let our patience or efforts or endurance of all these years go waste for the sake of one foolishly impulsive decision of mine.

So, I do exactly what I am expected to do. I bow.

Andre steps into the picture just then.

Fan-damn-tastic.

I can't quite put up with the sight of this traitor. He, just like everyone else, has lied to me for all these years. I can't believe that what my family has been doing for all these years was actually nothing at all. It was all part of the charade.

They must've known all along that I'm something that they're known. Very probably, I'm normal, like this lady in front of me - something that they obviously aren't.

But normal people don't see Lloyerd in their dreams. The night doesn't call normal people this way...

I don't know for sure. But for now I'll have to play along. I'll have to pretend to be the stupefied prey. Two can certainly play the game.

"Aizea...", Andre's voice is soft, but all I can hear is the way my name rolled off of Lloyerd's tongue - his voice wrapping around it like a velvety caress, with more love and care than I could comprehend.

"Andre...", I let his name roll off of my tongue too, the venom so perfectly concealed that I myself am impressed by my own acting skills.

The slightest amount of guilt vanishes from his eyes and his gaze flickers to his father. The Mayor nods and announces something that sort of declares Andre as the new Mayor. Apparently, I figure out, the rituals are done. Which means that there's something about the rituals that they don't want me to know.

But who cares about what they want, any longer? I'll get what I want. I'll snatch it. The truth and freedom.

So, I barely notice the thunder-loud clapping that breaks the uneasy silence as the Mayor puts a hefty locket onto Andre's neck. I don't even notice it's design. I am too busy formulating my next course of action.

But as Andre - the new Mayor - takes a step forward towards me and whispers, "You look beautiful.", I calculatedly whisper back, "You too."

The game has begun. I never wanted to be this deceiving girl that I am at the moment. But, looks like they have made me into this.

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